Poetry Peycho Kanev — November 5, 2011 13:02 — 0 Comments
Questions – Peycho Kanev
On the street,
the grizzled, bygone Time
stops me and asks:
“What are you carrying in these bags?â€
I slowly stretch out my hands
and say:
“In this – happiness,
and in this one – sorrow!â€
“Give me this one,â€
He points with staring eyes and
grabs it with His predatory hands,
and I reach to my back pocket
for the knife.
What am I?
Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies
Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;
Scientists can't find me.
Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—
Remind me:
The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…
Tick, Tock: Divine me.
-- Richard Kenney